Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Think, Zeus.” I want to shake him but manage to resist the urge. “She has no reason to deceive us. With five ships, she could bomb the city to oblivion with little risk to herself. The only reason she didn’t get around to it yet was because she was sure the Thirteen wouldn’t vote—something she was correct about. She didn’t see the coup coming. We stopped her.”
He finally drags a hand through his blond hair and curses. “We didn’t stop anything, but at least the blockade is no longer an issue.” As he speaks, I can actually see the walls coming back, his control once again reasserting itself. “Take this ship.”
“Excuse me?”
“Take this ship,” he repeats slowly. “You and your little boyfriend wanted to free the crew? Do it. Then bring the ship back to port and we’ll take it apart with a fine-tooth comb.” Zeus jerks open the door and stalks out of the room.
I blink, still trying to process this unexpected turn of events. I glance at Icarus, who surveys the room with a strange look on his face. “Is it a trap?” I ask. “It’s what she did with Hades in the lower city.”
“Circe isn’t the type to try the same trick twice.” He drifts to the mess of papers on the floor and picks up the note. “And no matter what kind of monster she is, I don’t think she’d blow this ship and its crew up—not even to get you and Zeus.”
“And Hades.”
He opens his mouth, seems to reconsider what he was about to say, and shrugs. “My father would make that play. The last Zeus would make that play. Circe is terrifying, but she’s terrifying in her intent. It’s more likely…”
I follow his thought, even though I desperately don’t want to. I clear my throat. “It’s more likely that this blockade was a distraction.” A clever one at that. She knew we’d vote and vote and vote again, trying to get the Thirteen to unite enough to stand against the ships. Just like she knew it wouldn’t work. While we were fighting each other, she was already moving onto the next step in her plan. “Are there even large-scale weapons on the Penelope?”
Icarus laughs bitterly. “I have no idea, but now that you’ve asked the question, I think we know the answer, don’t we?”
I feel sick. This has all gone so wrong. It’s been going wrong from the beginning, but I had no reference for the sheer gauge. “If Circe isn’t here, if these ships were never meant to attack Olympus, then where is she?”
“I have a feeling we’re going to find out, sooner rather than later.”
35
Icarus
It takes over an hour to root out every crew member and arrange them on the deck, sitting cross-legged with their hands laced behind their heads. As I suspected, not a single one of them put up a fight once the officers were dealt with. They all surrendered the moment they realized there was an attack.
They all…recognize me. Just like the person in the shower—who we’ve now recovered and brought to the deck. As I walk in Poseidon’s shadow, I hear the whispers.
“Icarus…”
“That’s Icarus Vitalis…”
Zeus stalks in front of them, his movements still too jerky to fully pull off his customary ice-king routine. He’s been questioning them for twenty minutes with little success.
They don’t know where Circe is. None of them even saw her at all, which confirms what we suspected about her not being on the ship for any length of time. They were recruited with the promise of steady wages and a nice bonus when they returned to Aeaea—one that would be paid out even in the event of their death, as long as it happened in the pursuit of Olympus. It’s an offer designed to pull in those with poverty’s boot on their necks, and the great irony is that the leaders of Aeaea could have fixed the poverty levels if they’d been less greedy. Instead, they recruited people who couldn’t afford to say no to being cannon fodder.
It pisses me off.
I rub my arms, disliking this new sensation. I’ve spent so long only caring for myself—and Ariadne—that I don’t know how to deal with this feeling. I can hardly go back to Aeaea and expect to have the power to change things.
Except you’re technically your father’s heir, no matter how little he wanted you. You’ve likely inherited everything.
I stop short. In all this frantic scrambling and free-falling of the last couple days, that never sank in. My father is dead. Gone forever. That means his extensive holdings and properties are all mine and Ariadne’s. Without him hanging over my head as a threat, I can go back to Aeaea. My father held significant influence among the wealthy. I might not have his charm, but I know all their dirty secrets.